By: Dread
Eloise Emmaline had always prided herself on her analytical skills–ever since she was a child, she had constantly been praised for her attention to detail, and her ability to notice small discrepancies that often went unnoticed by her peers. This skill fuelled her interest in human analysis, which she poured her heart into, engrossed by the complex and shifting nature of human behaviour. For over fifteen years, she had worked in the field, steadily creating more complex ways to analyze human behaviour and being able to determine the reasoning behind the actions of the people around her with only fifteen minutes of analysis. And yet, this case stumped her beyond belief. Almost nothing about it made sense, and Eloise could not, for the life of her, figure it out.
It was a simple case, in theory. She had been hired by Edwin Doormin, a man well-known in his sphere, to analyze a young woman for business purposes. But even after reading the girl’s brainwaves for over half an hour while she was sleeping, and a further fifteen minutes while interrogating her, she could not understand why Edwin had asked her to analyze the girl. There was nothing strange about her, and she reported this to Edwin, who had simply glared at her and told he was going to analyze the girl herself. When he had come back, he had simply told her that her work was done, and there was no need to further analyze the girl–she was not who Madame Roosney claimed she was, and he was going to interrogate the Madame herself to find out the truth.
But Eloise was nothing if not persistent–fifteen years of pursuing a career she adored, but which often had leads that seemed like dead ends, put her into the habit of being unable to rest unless she got closure for her subject of research. And right now, her subject of research was the girl she was hired to interrogate, Lila. Even if Edwin Doormin said her work was done, there was a reason she ran a private practice: so no one could tell her what to do. Not even her clients. In fact, she made it a habit to analyze each of her clients as well, in order to best understand the situations she was presented with, and his assertion that he would interrogate the Madame himself only piqued Eloise’s curiosity more. This is becoming an interesting case, she thought to herself as she set up her machines to keep an eye on Edwin.
After five minutes of trying the door, Lila finally gave up. The handle wouldn’t budge, and with no way of telling when she would be let out–if at all–she decided to save her energy for when she needed it. Besides, there was nothing in the room that could help her escape, and she had no idea what the situation outside the room was. If they had locked her in a room, the people around her might be dangerous. I need to be careful, she thought to herself. There’s no way for me to tell whether the people I spoke to are trustworthy or not.
Looking around the room for something she could use to pry the door open–there was no keyhole on the doorknob–she noticed something that was obscured by the low lighting, but which was visible if she focused: the room was filled with a thin dust. No, not dust, she corrected. It’s mist. Lila reached her hand out to touch the mist, which seemed to be particularly thick around her, and it dissipated instantly. For a moment, Lila second-guessed herself, thinking she had just imagined it. No, she told herself. It was real. But the mist didn’t reappear, and eventually she pushed it to the back of her mind, focusing on the main task at hand: figuring out the situation around her, and how to escape it.
After a few minutes of pondering, however, she gave up. There was nothing for her to use as a tool, and the only exit in the room was the door, which stubbornly remained locked. All she could do was sit on the bed and wait for someone to open the door for her.